Catalyzed
by sammasterpiece
Summary: Various short stories about Josh Ramsay and his love for cats.
1. Free Cats

**Free Cats**

He was on his way to the studio when he saw it.

"FREE CATS," the sign said. It was scrawled on a piece of cardboard, damp from the rain, with a black sharpie, and had been propped up against the side of a box. The box was sitting on the corner of the street, ignored by everyone who passed it.

He couldn't resist.

He pulled over and got out of his car, for once not even minding the rain that ruined his styled hair and soaked his sweater and blurred his vision. The box, he saw, hadn't even been covered; the poor creatures trapped inside had no protection from the downpour. At the bottom of the box, two wet, miserable balls of fur were curled around each other.

Carefully—he knew the temperament of cats, _especially_ when they had a cause to be angry already—he reached one hand into the box and stroked the back of the dark cat, the one that was black spotted with white. It was soaked through to the bone, wet fur matted to its tiny body, and he could feel the small frame shaking beneath his hand. It didn't seem to mind his touch, so he reached down further to scoop it up—it was hardly bigger than the size of his hand—and cradled it in his arms.

It couldn't have been more than a few days old. Its tiny eyes were still screwed shut, although that might have been from the rain; its small nose twitched. After a few minutes, its tremors were replaced by a more subtle vibration; it was purring.

"You're mine," he told it, overcome by a warm feeling of affection for the creature. As if it understood his words, the little kitten snuggled closer into the crook of his elbow. As if it trusted him already.

He was about to turn away when he remembered the other cat. He couldn't just _leave_ that one there, not after taking its sibling away and leaving it all alone. So with his free hand, he reached back into the box and carefully pulled the second kitten out. If possible, this one was even smaller: curled into a ball, it was about the size of his palm. It had tortoise-shell fur, mostly white with rusty patches that were made darker by the rain.

Satisfied, he made his way back to his car. He placed the two kittens on the back seat, where they immediately curled up against each other and fell asleep, before climbing into the front seat and continuing on his way.

* * *

When Matt entered the studio, shaking the rain off his coat and stomping his wet shoes against the doormat, the first thing he saw was Josh sitting cross-legged on the floor. Beside him was a bowl with what appeared to be milk in it; he was cradling two small balls of fur in his hands.

"What's going on?" he asked, confused; he had expected to see Josh at work in the recording booth, a guitar in his hands and a headset over his ears, as he so often was when Matt arrived at their sessions. As he walked further into the room, he saw that the two balls of fur in Josh's arms had tiny pink noses, small fuzzy ears, and eyes that were still tightly shut.

Josh had brought_ cats_ to the studio. Young ones, too, by the look of it—hardly a week out of their mother's belly. Where the hell had Josh found two baby _cats_?

"Aren't they adorable?" Josh asked, not even sparing a glance at Matt. His gaze was focused on his new pets, and a tender smile had come over his face. Matt didn't think he had ever seen Josh look at something with such loving care before—not even a new guitar.

"Where the hell did you find two baby cats?" Matt asked.

"On the street," Josh said offhandedly.

"Josh," Matt sighed, "you can't just…"

"This isn't like that time when we were teenagers," Josh defended himself. "There was a sign saying they were free and everything. And it was raining and they looked so miserable…"

Matt knew how Josh was about cats. Repressing another sigh, he went and sat next to his best friend and bandmate. "They _are_ cute," he admitted. There was something about the miniature faces and tiny, furry bodies that was charming and irresistible—and this was coming from Matt, who had hated cats since he was seven, since a neighbourhood tom had leapt at him from behind a dumpster and left a long scratch down the side of his face. He stroked at the soft fur with his index finger and was surprised to feel the tiny body move beneath his touch.

"I found some milk in the fridge for them," Josh said. "I don't know how old it was, but they seemed to like it just fine."

"Have you thought of a name for them yet?" Matt asked.

"Not yet. This one's a boy though," Josh said, gesturing to the black-and-white one, "and this one's his little sister."

"He looks almost like he's wearing a suit," Matt said with a smile. "A little black and white tuxedo."

"I could call him that. Tuxedo. Tux for short." As if he knew they were talking about him, the small cat nudged at Josh's hand with his nose. "See? I think he likes it."

"What about his sister? What are you going to call her?"

Fondly, Josh ruffled at the tortoise shell fur, so the rusted patches seemed to ripple across her back. "Anemone," he said suddenly.

"Anemone?" Matt raised his eyebrows. "Where'd that come from?"

"I don't know. But it fits her, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Matt said slowly, reaching out with his hand again. A small, rough tongue licked at his palm. "It does."

He had never really liked cats, but he thought, given the time, he could learn to love _these_ ones.


	2. Cat Missing

**Cat Missing**

Josh finds a stray cat on the street and decides to take it home with him - except the cat already has an owner.

* * *

It was a warm summer evening, and Josh and Matt were wandering, thinking, escaping along the quiet streets of suburban Vancouver. It was already late, and dark out, and they were alone on the street, and consequently when the shadowed shape jumped out in front of them, Matt jumped a foot in the air.

"What _is_ it?" he asked, his voice rising embarrassingly.

"A cat," Josh said, amused. And sure enough, once Matt managed to look past the glowing eyes, he was able to see that it was indeed just a cat standing in front of them.

That didn't do much to alleviate his irrational fear; Matt _hated _cats. He had hated them ever since he was seven, when he had been attacked by an angry homeless cat on his way home from school. The scratch the cat had left on his face had disappeared within a week, but the encounter had left him with an enmity towards the furry little devils that he felt sure would last a lifetime.

"It's kind of cute," Josh said.

"Cute?" Matt asked incredulously. "It looks like a rat."

Josh ignored him. "Come here," he cooed at the cat, getting down on his knees on the sidewalk. A strange, strangled purring sound escaped the back of his throat, and Matt stared at him. He had never understood Josh's bizarre affinity towards cats.

But to his surprise, the cat was taking slow, careful steps towards Josh, until it was close enough for Josh to reach out a hand and pet it. In return, Matt took a wary step back.

"It's not going to attack you, you know," Josh said, laughing.

"You never know," Matt said darkly.

"Matt, that was one time. I'm sure not all cats are personally offended by your face—"

Matt glared at him. "I'd rather not find out."

"I'm sure _this_ one doesn't hate you. It seems sweet, don't you think?" The cat was rubbing its head up against Josh's hand, a striped tail wrapping lazily around his leg.

"_All_ cats seem sweet to you," Matt said.

Josh ignored him. "It doesn't have a collar," he noted. "I wonder if it needs a home…"

"Josh," Matt sighed, "you can't just take a cat you found on the street home with you."

"Why not?" Josh asked, honestly curious.

"First of all, your sister's allergic," Matt explained exasperatedly, "remember? That's why you weren't allowed a cat in the first place. And second, what if it belongs to someone?"

"I'll keep it in my room where my sister won't be near it, and my mom will never have to know," Josh said reasonably, as if it made perfect sense. "And it doesn't have a collar."

"Just because it doesn't have a collar doesn't mean it doesn't have a home," Matt started, but Josh wasn't listening—he rarely did when a stupid idea had entered his head. The cat didn't protest as Josh scooped it up into his arms; in fact, it looked rather content, and yawned widely.

"See? It's happy to be going home with me."

Matt only shook his head and sighed and trailed after Josh as he headed down the street.

* * *

The house was dark when Josh arrived out front; everyone had already gone to bed. This made it considerably easier for him to sneak into the house with a cat in his arms.

Upstairs, Josh placed the cat on his bed and looked at it fondly. He had always, _always_ wanted a cat—ever since his old babysitter's had had kittens and he'd been allowed to spend an entire afternoon playing with them. Cats—and pets in general—had been banned in his house due to his sister's allergies, which he had always thought was unfair. What if he needed a cat to be happy? Didn't anyone care about _his_ wellbeing?

Anyway, it wasn't as if simply having a cat in the house was going to kill Sara or anything.

When Josh went to bed, he curled his body around that of the sleeping cat and buried his face in its soft fur. It didn't seem to mind; in fact, it hardly moved, aside from the gentle motion of its body as it breathed.

For the first time in a long time, Josh fell asleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

The next morning Josh made the cat was safely hidden away in his bedroom before going downstairs to join his family for breakfast.

He had hardly sat down when his sister sneezed violently—once, twice, three times.

"Sara, are you okay?" his mother asked, concerned.

"Fine," his sister coughed, eyes watering.

Josh stared fixedly at his plate and said nothing.

* * *

Matt noticed the first sign later that afternoon, when they were out wandering the neighbourhood again.

"Hey, isn't that your cat?" he asked, pointing to a piece of paper that had been taped to a lamppost. The sign featured a large picture of an orange-stripped tabby with the word "MISSING" written below it in large letters, along with a phone number and address.

"Can't be," Josh said.

"Josh…" Matt said, but Josh was already striding away and Matt had to run to catch up. "Josh, you can't keep that cat when you _know_ it belongs to someone else."

"We don't know that," Josh said.

"There're posters up all over town."

"It could be a coincidence," Josh said firmly. "It could be another cat."

"But it's not. You know it's not."

Josh refused to meet his eyes.

"Josh, where's that cat right now? Locked up in your room? What are you planning on _doing_ with it? You can't keep it hidden forever."

Instead of replying, Josh turned and walked away, and again Matt had to catch up to him.

"You can't keep that cat, Josh."

"I know," Josh replied at last, quietly. "It's just…I…" He laughed humourlessly under his breath. "It's stupid, isn't it, how I can love a cat more than I've ever loved a person?"

Matt didn't know what to say. Every once in a while Josh would say something like this, something honest, like a wall had come down and a mask had fallen away. Matt never knew what to say during moments like that.

"I _know _I can't keep it," Josh continued, "because it has a home and someone probably misses it…but that doesn't mean I don't want to keep it anyway."

"One day you'll have a cat of your own," Matt said.

Josh sighed. "Okay," he said sadly. "Let's go."

Josh carried the cat carefully out of his house cradled in his arms, the way he'd snuck it in. Together, he and Matt walked to the address specified on the posters.

Alone, Josh walked up the front steps and set the cat down outside the door. The cat mewed and looked at him with big eyes, and Josh stroked its head one last time.

Then he rang the doorbell and ran back down the steps to hide behind the shrubs that lined the sidewalk with Matt. From here, they could clearly see the front door of the house. It was important to Josh to see the cat's owner; he wanted to make sure that they were a good one, that he was making the right decision.

A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal a girl of about twelve. A huge grin split across her face when she saw the cat sitting on the step. She scooped it up and cradled it in her arms, much the way Josh had.

"Satisfied?" Matt asked.

Josh smiled sadly. "I suppose," he said.


	3. Cat Therapy

**Cat Therapy**

Josh is miserable in rehab, and Matt decides to bring him a surprise that just might cheer him up.

* * *

Matt arrived shortly before noon with a bundle held securely under his arm. He had wrapped it carefully in blankets before walking through the front doors, and hadn't been questioned as he'd strolled through the lobby of the rehab centre.

Every couple of minutes, the bundle would squirm impatiently. "Shh," he told it as he opened the door to Josh's room. "You don't want to ruin the surprise."

Josh was sitting on the edge of his bed, gazing at the ground and looking thoroughly miserable. He looked up as Matt entered, his eyes dull and his hair unkempt.

"Hey," Matt greeted him. "How are you feeling?"

"Same as usual," Josh grunted.

"Not so great, then?"

"What do you _think_?" Josh snapped.

Matt wasn't offended by his tone. Before, Josh's words might have hurt him, but he had come to realize that they weren't directed at him; they were directed at the rehab centre, the bare and lonely room, and at Josh himself.

"I've brought you something," Matt said. "I think it'll make you feel better."

"Doubt it."

Ignoring him, Matt placed his bundle carefully next to Josh and pulled away the blankets covering it.

"Tiny!" Josh exclaimed, his apathy abandoning him as he stared incredulously at the tiny kitten sitting on his bed. "How…?" There was a strict no-pet policy at the rehabilitation centre. There was a strict no_ anything_ policy at the rehabilitation centre, in case they managed to use it to hurt themselves, or, God forbid, find a piece of happiness.

"Snuck him in," Matt, said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Your receptionist wasn't really paying attention."

In fact, she had been concentrating on a crossword puzzle and had waved Matt in without even looking up.

"I can't believe it," Josh said, and, for the first time since he had been placed in rehab a month before, he smiled.

His kitten, Tiny, mewed impatiently, and Josh picked him up and buried his face in his fur. The cat had been even tinier six months before, when Josh had received him as a gift and given him his name, but he was still small for his age.

Josh had always wanted a cat. It was only once his older sister, who had severe cat allergies, had moved out of the house that Josh was finally allowed to have a pet for himself.

He loved Tiny with his whole heart. He had black fur and large, curious green eyes and a pink nose that twitched a lot. He chased balls of string and dust bunnies and slept curled up in potted plants. He ran behind the couch or into Josh's arms whenever someone unfamiliar entered the house. He was sweet and curious and loving, and he belonged to Josh and Josh alone.

"Your mom said he can stay overnight," Matt said. "Just…keep him hidden. And take care of him."

Josh snorted sarcastically. Then he raised his eyes to meet Matt's. "Thanks," he said softly, genuinely.

"I thought you might want some company. Outside of visiting hours, I mean. You must be miserable in here."

"It could be worse. At least I'm not dead." Josh felt a sudden surge of affection for his friend, the one friend who had stayed with him through everything. "How are _you_? How's school been?"

"It's alright," Matt said. "The band and choir are going to a festival in Abbotsford next weekend."

"Sounds fun."

"I guess so. It'd be better if you were there." This was the most Josh had said in the month since he'd been placed in rehab, and the first time he'd actually been interested in anything. Matt decided to take a chance. "How are you? _Really_?"

"I feel like shit," Josh admitted after a brief pause. "My entire body hurts and it feels like someone's driving a spike through my head, I haven't slept in days, my mouth is always dry and I'm going through serious withdrawals."

"I'm sorry," Matt said.

Josh laughed humourlessly. "It's not your fault," he said. "It's mine. I made some really stupid fucking decisions, and I'm paying for them now." As if sensing his distress, Tiny pawed at him and nudged him with his head, purring quietly.

"I'm still sorry," Matt said. "I hate seeing you like this."

"I've always been like this. Before, I just didn't let anyone see it."

A soft knock came at the door, and Josh hurriedly put Tiny down and threw a blanket over him. "Yes?" he called.

The door opened, and Josh's therapist, a woman who insisted he call her Courtney, entered. "Josh?" she asked. "It's time for your afternoon session. I'm sorry, but your friend will have to leave."

"It hasn't even been ten minutes!" Josh protested.

"It's fine," Matt said, rising. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" He waved at Josh, smiled at Courtney, before exiting the room.

Josh sighed, rising as well. "Fine," he said. "Let's get this over with." He cast one worried look back at the small lump on his bed before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

* * *

There was something subtly different about the room when Josh returned several hours later.

The bed had been made, the covers straightened and the pillows fluffed.

"Oh no," Josh whispered, panic quickly rising in his throat. "Tiny? Tiny, where are you?" He got to his knees and peered under the bed. There was nothing there. His vision blurred with irrational tears, and he sat back on his heels and wiped at his eyes.

It was stupid to cry. Tiny was probably fine; he had just been taken away by the maid because he wasn't supposed to have pets in his room, and he'd be able to see him whenever he got out of this hellhole, it was just…

Tiny was the only thing that made him feel better; he was the only thing Josh could whisper his secrets to.

"_Mew._"

The noise came from behind him, and Josh turned around to see Tiny standing half-hidden by the desk, his tail curling around one of the legs of his chair. His green eyes glowed intelligently, while the rest of him blended in with the shadows.

Josh laughed with relief and swept the kitten up into his arms, rubbing the top of his head. Tiny closed his eyes and purred contentedly. "Did you hide from the cleaning lady?" Josh asked. "You clever kitty." Quickly, he pressed a kiss to the top of Tiny's head.

He decided to skip supper that night. Instead, he sat on his bed with his cat and confided in Tiny all the things he hadn't been able to tell anyone else.

"The food here is awful," he said. "It tastes like burned rubber. Or maybe that's just me."

"Sometimes I don't want to get better," he whispered. "But I will. I swear I will."

"Do you know what it's like to be happy?" he asked. "I don't think I've ever really known. Do you think that, after this, I'll finally be able to be happy?"

"I wish I could be a cat," he said. "You have nothing to worry about. You just eat your food and wait for people to pet you." Tiny looked at him with his wide green eyes, and blinked. Josh smiled.

That night, for the first time in weeks, with a tiny ball of fur curled up against him and whiskers tickling his cheek, Josh slept peacefully.

* * *

Matt visited again the next afternoon, an apologetic expression on his face.

"Thanks," Josh said, as he handed him Tiny, once again carefully hidden in a folded pile of blankets. "I mean it."

"No problem," Matt said, smiling. "It's nice to see you feeling better."

"I _am_ going to get out of here," Josh promised, "and soon. But…do you think you could bring him back for another visit?"

"Of course," Matt said. "He misses you too, you know."


End file.
